The Parting Glass – Part 1

Harriet:

The week after Christmas had passed quietly, at least for my husband as there were no new cases for him to work on, while I, on the other hand, had been exceptionally busy, having to help out at St. Anne's as a sudden bout of flu had bereft me of many of the volunteers. The new year had thus begun without me even really realising it.

It was very early morning of the second day of January when much to my surprise a telegram from my brother arrived announcing his coming to town the very same day. This was somewhat of a surprise as Sherlock and I were due to arrive at his estate in a few days time anyway for his new year's event, which he held every year. Moreover, as the telegram was addressed to my husband, I was almost certain this would not be a social call. It seemed Sherlock had come to the same conclusion.

"Hm, he gives no reason for his sudden visit," he remarked, handing me the telegram. "But I dare say he wants to see me on business. It sounds quite urgent as well, does it not? One has to wonder what it is all about."

I was rather alarmed by my brother's note and could not but agree.

"The wire has not been sent from Lewes," I added, glancing over it once more.

"No, it is from Petersfield. Do you know anyone from there, my dear?"

"Yes, the Atwell's."

"Are they close friends?"

"Not of mine, though I do know them of course. Sir Robert is member of the same party as Cedric and like him, he is a magistrate. They will be at Cedric's party, too. Sir Robert is a nice enough man, perhaps a bit pompous, but the son I prefer to avoid." I replied, rolling my eyes.

"Why so?" Sherlock asked, looking slightly bemused.

"Because whenever we meet I never seem able to get rid of him."

Now my husband laughed: "So I take it he is one of your many admirers?"

"I have no admirers, Sherlock. And even if I had, I doubt he would be one of them. I hardly meet his standards for a fashionable and obedient lady. However, he too is in the same party as my brother and as Sir Cedric's sister might have thought me a suitable match. But honestly, the man is a nuisance, I tell you!"

"I could not fault him for admiring you, Hattie, but in your own right of course, not because you are someone's sister."

Getting up I pecked him on the cheek just as the door opened and Mrs Hudson brought in our breakfast, smiling at this simple display of our mutual affection. She was closely followed by Tom delivering our daily stack of morning papers.

"Ah, food for the stomach and the brain!" Sherlock cried out, rubbing his hands in anticipation.

Knowing my spouse I was certain it was more the latter he was yearning for than the former. But different to many husbands I knew, including my brother and late father, he refrained from reading the papers during the meal and instead we chatted about this and that. I was not particularly hungry and listlessly munched away on my buttered toast with the slightest spread of strawberry jam, while Sherlock helped himself to some scrambled eggs and some bacon.

"Have you lost your appetite?" he enquired, his eyebrows raised questioningly.

"I think over Christmas I have eaten a bit too much," I replied, truthfully.

My corset felt uncomfortably tight and I felt decidedly sluggish, which made the long hours at the hospital quite a chore.

"You might have a point there." Sherlock patted his stomach theatrically. "Ah well, that is the danger of the festive season, my love. And it does not help, of course, that Mrs Hudson and Martha are very good cooks."

At last, I had to smile as Sherlock Holmes was as lean as ever.

When we had finished eating we equally divided the papers between us, and moving over to the fire began reading. Sherlock with a pipe between his lips and I with a cup of tea beside me, the only thing which seemed to settle my revolting stomach. It was my husband who first spotted the article:

"'It is with sadness we have to announce the death of the Honourable Sir Robert Atwell, magistrate for Peterborough and South Sussex. Sir Robert died unexpectedly on January 1st of this year. Though nothing more is known about the exact circumstances, the fact that the police has been called in indicates that a tragedy must have occurred and that his death might not have been a natural one.' - It seems we can safely assume that this is what brings your brother here."

"Yes, so it seems." I agreed, saddened by the sudden and unexpected death of a family friend, even though I had little to do with him. Tears threatened to escape my eyes and I felt somewhat silly to cry over the death of a man I had barely known. Swallowing hard I searched through my own paper and found a similar article in it.

As a matter of fact, as we looking through the stacks of papers, we found several articles of almost the same content all implying an unnatural death, but only the 'Chronicle' was openly speaking of a crime committed.

xxx

It was close to lunch when Cedric appeared with none other than Charles Atwell in tow. The man was just as unpleasant as I remembered him to be, scolding my brother at the mere sight of me, and even before he greeted my spouse.

My ire rose instantly as he spoke to my brother: "Sir Cedric, is it really suitable for your sister to be here? There surely was no need for her to come and bother Mr Holmes."

"I happen to live here, Mr Atwell." I snapped testily before any of the men could answer. "My brother has absolutely nothing to do with my presence."

"Good morning, gentlemen." Sherlock welcomed him suavely, a knowing look on his face – and one of understanding. "You have obviously met my wife, Mr Atwell. I think Harriet mentioned it earlier this morning."

He waved his hand in an invitation to our visitors to sit down and make themselves comfortable.

"Your wife?" Atwell gasped in surprise, glancing accusingly at my brother, who in turn just shrugged his shoulders. I knew quite well that Cedric, while greatly liking Sir Robert, did not much care for the son either.

"It seems I have forgotten to mention, that Mr Sherlock Holmes happens to be my brother in law." he, at last, answered offhandedly.

"Yes, so it seems." was his companions annoyed reply.

"Dare I doubt it is mine or my wife's marital status you have come here to discuss?"

"No, of course, it is not. It was just some surprise, I have to say. - Anyway, you might have read it in the papers already, Mr Holmes, that my father has died yesterday."

"I – we have," Sherlock replied, settling down himself, leaning back in his armchair, elbows on the high armrests and his fingertips lightly touching, while his grey eyes gazed intently at his new client. "From what we have gathered from them it is generally assumed that Sir Robert's death was not a natural one."

"That, unfortunately, is correct. This is why we are here." Cedric answered with an expression of worry on his features.

Again Atwell glanced at me, clearly expecting me to leave, while my brother seemed resigned not to get involved in any potentially ensuing argument regarding the proper position of a woman in society and mine in particular. It seemed one could teach an old dog new tricks after all. I surely had to thank my mother for it. Bless her!

"Miss Stephrey, would you ple… - Mrs Holmes, I mean, of course, would you kindly leave us to it. This is not a conversation suitable for a young lady." Atwell finally stated when I did not budge.

"No, perhaps it is indeed better I leave." for once I agreed, not wanting to embarrass Cedric. "I need to go into town shortly anyway and then work awaits me for an hour or two."

While the former was perfectly true the latter was not, even though I had planned to drop in at St. Anne's to shortly check on one of my patients who was very poorly on my way back from my final fitting. I had, after some contemplation, deemed it necessary to purchase a new gown as Imogen liked to maintain a certain style and extravagance with her more formal functions and for once I was not in the mood to toe the line.

xxx

Sherlock:

With some annoyance I watched Harriet leave and at the same time thoroughly understood her dislike for the young Mr Atwell. Had it not been for my brother in law, I would have insisted on her staying. On the other hand, I knew that she indeed had an appointment at her dressmakers and that she would need to leave within the hour anyway. Why she needed to go to St. Anne's though, was beyond me. She had worked through from early morning on Boxing Day when she had been called in to an emergency and since then had hardly spent less than ten hours there every day. The time we had wanted to spend leisurely together had been disrupted by many of the volunteers falling ill and as I glanced at my wife she too did not look all too healthy. Her meagre breakfast was yet another testimony to that and I could not help noticing her paleness and general tiredness. Then again, who was I to preach to her about taking things slow and taking care of oneself?

Putting on a neutral face I beckoned Atwell to proceed as soon as the door was closed behind Hattie.

"We were celebrating New Year's as well as my father's birthday and had a couple of friends invited."

This accounted for Sir Cedric being there.

"How many people were there?" I asked, curious what counted as a couple of friends among the likes of the Atwell's.

"All in all just thirty, including our own family. The weather has prevented many from coming over without any difficulty and so our circle was rather small."

Cedric handed me a list of names. It seemed he was prepared for every eventuality. Taking it from his hands I cast a quick glance over it, startled to read yet another familiar name, other than Sir Cedric's and Lady Imogene's that is.

"If you could continue please." I encouraged him, folding the paper and putting it into the inner pocket of my coat.

"It was shortly after midnight and we were toasting to my father's health, when suddenly he reached for his throat, panic on his features his lips moving but not making any sound as he glanced pleadingly at Professor Peverell and then collapsed. For a second or two none of us did stir, too shaken to move. At last Peverell, who is a medic rushed forward and to Sir Robert's aid - but alas, it was too late. My father was dead by then."

"Has there been an autopsy yet?"

"No. My mother and I would prefer not to have one conducted, Mr Holmes. The thought of having him cut open is most abhorrent to her."

"I doubt it can be avoided, Atwell," Cedric interjected before I could say anything. "As the police has been called in, there will have to be at least a viewing and it is not unlikely there will also be a court order for a full examination. After all, this might be a murder. - Unless it is a most unfortunate coincidence and your father died of natural causes after all. But even this we will have to establish with any certainty."

I voiced my agreement with my brother in law, asking: "I presume your father has been a healthy man?"

"Yes, very healthy, particularly for his age."

"Anything he might have hidden from you? Did this Professor Peverell perhaps indicate something of the kind?"

"He hardly ever saw his doctor, which is not Peverell, by the way. Peverell does not practise, he is an academic at King's College here in London."

I made a note of it in the hopes that Harriet might know him then.

"Please proceed."

"There is nothing more to tell, Mr Holmes," Atwell said. "My father dropped dead and that is that."

Sighing I reached for my pipe. Some people were rather tedious clients because they would tell one so many irrelevant things that it was enough to fill a novel, while in this case, the man told me too little to work with it. I glanced in Sir Cedric's direction only to see he apparently thought the same. From his expression, I could also tell that if he had been on his own, he could and would have told me a great deal more. But as it seemed, this would have to wait till later. There was something about my client which made me hesitant to speak openly to my wife's brother while he was present.

While I stuffed my pipe I pondered for a few minutes. As yet it was not even certain there had been a crime committed, only an autopsy could establish this. A sudden death might at first glance appear suspicious, but might just as well be down to a hitherto unknown medical condition. So, why would his son, wife and friends think it was a crime in the first place? Surely only if the man had an enemy. But the response to my question was a negative one – at least from the son, while Cedric Stephrey gave a slight nod behind his companions back and caught my eye.